It has been many years now, and Caleb is nearly grown, and I have kept that promise.

I still cannot watch my son run without something in my chest going tight with a gratitude that has never once worn thin.

There is a whole philosophy, I have come to believe, hidden in that refusal to let a miracle grow ordinary.

Most of the good in our lives goes quietly unremarked, taken for the furniture of the everyday, until it is gone and we grieve what we never once paused to notice.

I decided, standing at that window, that I would not do that with my son’s life.